


Necklace of Dread

by Hero_of_Denerim



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero_of_Denerim/pseuds/Hero_of_Denerim
Summary: Just having parted ways with Vox Machina, Tary was looking forward to his own adventures; still, he wondered what his former companions were up to.He did not want to find it out likethis.





	Necklace of Dread

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for episode 102!
> 
> Written to fill the _artisan / craftsman_ square on my [Gen Prompt Bingo card](http://toffeecat.dreamwidth.org/9270.html).

He has found more volunteers than he has initially hoped. Once he has dropped the name of Vox Machina, of course, and after regaling some of their tales and the promise of even more, yet it has worked out better than he could have imagined. Or, maybe, it has had something to do with the hulking half-orc that accompanies him now. He is no Grog, but he tries very hard, and that will do. For now.

Taryon smiles, and whistles a tune he has picked up- where has he picked it up again? He contemplates about it for a while, but eventually shrugs, and, after quickly wiping beads of sweat from his temple with the edge of his sleeve, continues to fuse Doty's left arm. Almost as good as new! No, even better, with all the upgrades he has added! In a few days, he would be patched up enough to be ready to travel, and until then, who knew how many people would have agreed to join him?

He grins, until he remembers he will have to mount a horse. A horse! He has been wary of them ever since that little _incident_ with that bounty hunter. His ribs still ache at the memory alone, though not nearly as much as his pride. 

And it was less preferable to just walking through a tree and appearing next to his family's estate, _his estate_... But Keyleth is away, with Vex and the others on their mission, and he was here, on his own. And on horseback. Taryon scoffs.

"Doty, add 'Finding a way to teleport on my own' to the list of things I need to take care of, once I have restored my family's name."

"Tary."

He smacks his head at the sound of metal moving, because he _should have thought about that_ , but he has not, and can only stare at Doty as the automaton abruptly moves his arms. The weld tears apart and it clatters onto the ground. Cursing under his breath, he snatches the metal construct from underneath his workbench, and blows off the dust and metal shavings. Tary looks up to watch the automaton dutifully scribble his command into the air with his remaining, functioning arm. The heavy tome is still attached to Doty's side. He rolls his eyes, knowing about the comical absurdity of the scene before him; if Vax'ildan was here, he would tease him mercilessly... 

Suddenly, a spot on his chest grows warm. Not shortly after, something vibrates rather unpleasantly against his skin.

He swats at his chest, trying to fend off what could only be one of those pesky bugs he has been warned about; the kind that bites into one's skin and sucks one's blood until only a dried-out husk remains. He shivers. That would, certainly, not be the end of him, Taryon Darrington! Of course, it might have been a tale that is passed around in taverns and roadside inns like bed bugs, or stale ale. The thought alone makes him scrunch up his nose. One more reason why he would not risk it, not when he has finally found what he wanted to dedicate his life to.

The pulse grows even stronger, though, and oddly offbeat. He groans. One hand still holding Doty's arm, the other slides underneath his tunic. He would tear this pest from his body, and if that left claw marks all the better. There had been many fights he could account them to and-

His mind goes blank when his hand clutches around the source; a small crystal, dangling from a chain and, now, pulsing against his palm. Forgotten are worries about his future and bugs and boasts, even Doty. A tear rolls down his cheek, followed by another, and another, until drops become streaks and his vision blurs.

Percival must have made a mistake in constructing this, it is malfunctioning, because it _could not possibly be_...

"No..."

He tightens his grip around the pendant, as if that way he could change what it meant; as if once he makes it stop he could bring them back. His nails dig into his palm, and the necklace is scorching hot, but the pain is fleeting compared to the way his heart, achingly slowly, breaks.

His stomach turns, his legs give way under him, and he collapses; his body is trembling from weeping. He curls up around the hand that holds the necklace, willing it to stop pulsing, but it to no avail.

So he lets the pain wash over him, consume him, paralyse him and his mind. Otherwise... otherwise he could no longer evade the only thought that echoes through his head, over and over again.

_Who is it?_

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Sam Riegel for casually destroying my poor heart like this! ~~That was uncalled for...~~


End file.
